CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "The long legged beast of the Magura Forest" Creepypasta

Episode Date: February 3, 2021

CLICK HERE for a sighting of The Long Necked Woodsman► https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcS8Q...​CREEPYPASTA STORY►by MikeJesus: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...​Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...​iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...​SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...​►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...​►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...​►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...​FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta​►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/​►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta​►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPasta​CREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic​ ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic​ ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt​ ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM​ ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

His sheepskin coat was covered with snow and mud. The rifle strapped across his back was broken in half. Without greeting us, he stumbled to the barkeep and demanded Palinka. What happened to you, Yosco? asked Houschen, his big belly bouncing with laughter. Got into a fight with her dog yours. This got a couple of laughs from the men, but as soon as the woodman turned around, all mirth disappeared from the room. Yosco was built like a bull and wore a true woodman's beard. yet beyond the rough face, plain as day.

We could all see. He was terrified. The woodsman didn't answer. He just swallowed the bar keep's offering. It wasn't until his second shot that he spoke. There's something in the woods. Damn right, there's something in the woods. A damn snowstorm.

What a fool you are to walk around in there during the winter, Halshin said. But fool or not, come join us and let me buy her drink. As soon as someone closes that damn tour, might actually find some warmth here. Outside, a mighty storm raged in the dying light of the afternoon. Peaking out of the curtains of snow with the outlines of the Magura forest,

a forest thick enough to be dangerous, even in the brightest of summers. As the door closed, I quietly took pity on any man who would get lost in that wilderness. The woodsman took two more helpings of the palenka before he sat down among us. The liquor smelled heavy off of him,

but as soon as he took to him, took off his coat, the room filled with a stench of sweat. So, Yosco, last week you sit here and brag about how you finished all the winter preparations a month early, but now we catch you getting lost in the forest, never took you for a liar. Halshen boomed, hoping to get a response out of the woodsman, but his jabs didn't land. The man, sitting before us, was in no mood for arguments or jokes. What brought you to the forest, friend?

Halchin finally asked with a hint of kindness in his voice. The woodsman stared into his beer as if it was to provide answers to his torment. When no answers presented themselves, he started to speak. Bacco, he said. Ever since we finished the winter work, he'd been anxious, kept on howling and biting his paws, figured taking him out for a quick walk in the forest would help. Ah, you treat that dog like a child, hush and hollered. You let an animal sleep in the house, and soon enough it feels entitled to complain.

This got a couple of murmurs of agreement from the rest of the table. Baco, much like the rest of the village dogs, was a product of untraceable parentage or breed. Yet, he wasn't treated like the simple farm animal he was. The woodsman seldom left the house without the dog, kept him by his side whenever he could. He would even converse with it when he thought no one was watching. Even though the hound and the woodsman were ill-liked,

many crude jokes would be made on account of their relationship. yet no one felt like joking that night. Where is Bako? someone asked. The woodsman didn't answer. Instead, he took a dull swig of his beer. Getting out of the house helped, he said. As soon as he got to the forest, he was off like a cannonball, jumping around in the snow, running back and forth on the path.

Haven't seen him that happy all month. I wanted him to have his fun, figured I'd take him with me to check on the feeder and salt lakes. The woodsman's words were hollow. It was as if his body was present in the pub, but his mind was still somewhere off in the forest. That's when I found the tracks, he said. There's something in the woods.

Ah, I understand now, Halchin said, grinning. You went out for some of your season hunting. Yosco, we're among friends here, so no one will report you. But if you do find yourself with some venison sausages, it would be a sin not a share. The rest of the table laughed hungrily. So you had a running with a bear? Is that what happened to your rifle?

No, the woodsman said, and took another heavy swig of his beer. The tracks didn't belong to a bear, or a deer, or a boar, or anything else that roams in our forest. It was something bigger, something heavier, something taller. Taller, someone asked. Taller. These tracks went deep. The legs that left them were tall, but the tracks were still. of hooves, long, flat hooves.

Thought that maybe I'd come across some freak deer. Been a hard year, figured a bit of sausage would cheer everyone up. For a moment, the woodsman smiled. For a moment, a drinking buddy was back. But then, his eyes glazed over. What we found wasn't a deer. Well, Bacca played in the snow. I followed the tracks.

They ended up leading me all the way past the stream. They led to... The woodsman paused. It was as if he suddenly became aware of who he was speaking to. He looked up at Houschen. They led... To your fields. I trust my potatoes are doing well.

Halsian laughed. Others left with him. No, the woodsman said, silence in the crowd. No, Halsian, your fields are. It was as if bores dug through everything you planted. Everything is dug up. There's mud everywhere. That's ridiculous.

Someone said. No bore is smart enough. to dig through the snow. Is this true, Yoscar, you're not pulling my leg? When the woodsman shook his head, all the joy had left Halshian's eyes. For a moment, Houshan sat wordlessly, letting the anger fill his cheeks.

What happened next? Who dug up my fields? He finally asked. Bacca was too busy running around in the snow to notice the tracks, but when we reached the field, there was no snow to play in. I tried to get him to follow the scent to track down whatever animal destroyed

your fields. He didn't want to. The woodsman's voice jumped in octave. His dark eyes closed. Baco wanted to go home. See, this is what happens when you treat your dog like a child. Housin's slam the table, nearly spilling his beer. You treat an animal like a man and they start to form opinions. That hound was meant to follow the scent. That hound was meant to lead you to the animals that wrecked my fields. He did, the woodsman said. Bacco. wanted to go home, but I forced him to follow the scent. I forced him to track down the animal. Good, Aoushan said, calming, have to remind the animal who was master from time to time. Aalchen looked beneath the table as if he expected the dog to be there, but Bacco was nowhere to be found.

For a moment, it looked as if the man would ask about the dog, but he didn't. What did Bacchow find? He didn't want to lead me, but I insisted. The woodsman said, his head bent over his beer and sorrow. He led me through your fields, down to the valley below. For a while I could see the tracks. I could see those long-legged hooves in the snow. But when we walked down the valley, the snow disappeared. All that was left was mud, mud and fog.

Bacco kept on whimpering. He kept on looking back to me, begging me with his eyes to leave. But I didn't listen. I just kept on walking through the mud, hoping for some good meat. We were walking through the fog for a good ten minutes when I heard it. I heard the animal, like a mating grunt of a deer, but darker. I heard it coming from above. Above, someone asked,

From the sky, Yasko, are you trying to tell us you saw deer mating in the sky? No one laughed. Looking at the woodsman's terrified face, no one dared to laugh. The fog was far too thick to see through. I was barely able to keep track of it. Bacco, but I could hear it. I could hear something groaning above us. At that point, even I was scared.

I couldn't see anything. The dog was nervous, and whatever was out there in the fog was big. I tried to turn around. I was finally going to listen to Bacco's instincts, but it was far too late. The woodman attempted to continue his story, but no words left his mouth. He was still out there, in the forest, trying to make sense of what him and his dog had seen. Rana Belenka's on Meebar Keep,

housing ordered, breaking the tension for a split moment. Yet, as the glasses of clear liquid were placed on the table, the pub descended back into complete silence. Everyone was waiting for the woodsman to speak. He remained wordless until he swallowed his medicine. The legs, he finally said. The legs were the first thing I saw. Tall, grey legs, attached to a body I could not see.

The skeletal limbs were enough for me. As soon as I saw them, I ran. I ran and backer followed me. But we weren't alone. The beast ran behind us. Its steps were frantic and clumsy, but it moved fast. Even on those disgustingly thin legs, it kept up with us. And the groaning, the groaning kept on getting closer,

as if whatever was making those horrible sounds was descending from the sky. Out of nowhere, the animal put on a burst of speed and overtook us. It nearly trampled us as it ran ahead Then it stopped A head descended from the fog On a sickeningly long neck Eyes blacker than the darkest night Her long purple tongue

And giant yellow teeth Staring at me was the maddened snout of a beast I couldn't imagine in my worst nightmares It foamed at its curled lips It snapped its monstrous more The beast meant us harm I squeeze off one shot Went wide

By the time I loaded next The woodsman nodded to his rifle, propped up against the table. The barrel of the gun was crushed and bent, halved by a thick tooth bite. There wasn't a second shot. I fell to the ground and that horrible head descended towards me. Even past the mist, I could see those big dark eyes. They weren't dumb, they weren't like the eyes of any animal I've ever seen. No, there was malice in those eyes.

The beast wanted me dead, not because of hunger, not because of fear. but out of pure spite. For a moment, I was sure that my days had been numbered. But then... Backo, someone whispered. The woodsman drained his mug and nodded. He jumped out of the beast's neck and tore into it. I didn't look back.

I just ran. I abandoned him. I left Baco alone with whatever spawn of hell that creature was. All that could be heard was the howling of the wind outside. We were all trying to make sense of the woodsman's story. trying to figure out if the man had simply lost his mind in the forest, or whether there was any truth to what he was saying. Halshin brugged the silence with his fist.

Bakko died an honourable death for a dog, he said, slamming the table. He died serving his master. Barkeep, Arenopelenka in the hound's honour. To murmurs of agreement, another round was poured. Before the glasses were raised, however, Hausian struck a gentle tone. Yosco, none of us here doubt your story,

but you have to admit it is a difficult one to grasp. Impossible to grasp, might I say, for those of a more gentle nature. It has been a hard year. The last thing we need is the women and children being scared of some long-legged monster in the woods. I suggest to you, and everyone gathered here, that we do not speak of this matter further.

I am sure that whatever beast you encountered will not stay in the Magura forest for long. If there are still traces of it come spring, we can investigate the matter further. But as far as I'm concerned, all you and Bacco encountered in the woods was a particularly restless bear. The table all turns of the woodsman.

We all studied his blank face in search of a response. Yes, the woodsman said after a moment of thought, let us not speak of this further. Tobacco, Alchin said. Tobacco, we echoed. Once the glasses were drained

and slammed down on the wood, Another wave of silence followed. No one knew what to say. Surely it was no time to cast doubt upon the woodsman's story, and it was most definitely no time to make jokes, but conversations around the village pubs seldom revolved around anything other than humour and distrust. He was a good boy, the woodsman whispered.

The others started to murmur their agreement, but suddenly everyone went quiet. There was a scratch on the door. Something was trying to get inside of the pub. What was that? Someone said. Behind us, the bar keep shogging cocked into action. He was aiming straight at the door.

The fear in the room was palpable. What once seemed like a fever dream of a man lost in the woods now seemed like an undeniable reality. There was something outside, and it wanted in. The force on the door grew more erratic. With each second, I could feel the sanity draining out of the room. We were all thinking of the long-legged monstrosity that the woodsman had described.

We were all fearing for our lives. But then, the scratches were joined with another sound, a familiar sound. Behind the door, her dog whimpered. Baco! The woodsman yelled as he leapt to his feet and rushed to the door. You're alive! The dog was alive, but barely.

Bacco's fur was matted in blood and he scarcely managed to stay upright on his paws. Whatever struggle Baco had emerged from was a brutal one. The pub immediately mobilized into a flurry of activity. Within seconds, the injured dog was wrapped up in the woodsman's coat and carried out into the night. In the spirit of communal support,

or morbid curiosity, perhaps, the whole pub followed the woodsman to the village veterinarian. Soon enough, Houshant and I were the only ones left in the pub. You think the woodsman was telling the truth? I asked. Yosco has a strange relationship with his dog. Houssin said, waddling over behind the bar and grabbing the bottle of Planker.

But I do not take him for a liar or a madman for that matter. But the thought of some long-legged monster hiding in the woods, though? As the rest of the men trudged through the snow and darkness, hoping to save Bako, Halsham poured two shots of the clear liquid. Let me once again suggest that we do not speak of this matter until spring. Whether there is or isn't something in the forest right now is not of our concern. It is the winter. it has been a hard year.

Let it simply tend to our homes and enjoy the fruits of our labour. He handed me the glass. I accepted it. At least the dog is alive, he said. And then, in a little bastion of civilization surrounded by a dark forest, we drank.